


Under The Tyres

by DistrictHeathdene



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Language, Mad Max AU, i don't know anything about cars, mild violence, or guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 13:22:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8753221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistrictHeathdene/pseuds/DistrictHeathdene
Summary: Arya’s world was a wasteland, and a lonely one. It had been a year since her father died and Joffrey had seized control of the desolate landscape and the only water supply for miles. Perhaps longer, it was hard to keep track of time when nothing was fixed anymore. 
Mad Max AU





	

The bike was shot.

Arya bit her lip as she examined the hunk of metal lying useless in the sand. The desert was bathed in a silvery glow, enough light for her to see every scratch on the hub caps, to make out every lizard that scuttled past her feet. Enough light that anyone driving past for miles would see her, huddled and alone in the night.

Her bike had sputtered out its last some hours ago; she had tinkered as best she could but she was no mechanic, and the bike had a been a heap of junk even in its heyday.

_Shit,_ she rocked back into a sitting position, slumped in the dirt and pulled her coat tight around her. The wind was cold at night, bitterly so, but the idea of lighting a fire scared her. She was too exposed. She pulled her hood low over her brow and her scarf up over her nose, as if that would help if anyone should happen to drive past.

Her red coat wouldn’t save her if a Lannister patrol stumbled upon her all alone, with only the wind as witness. Brigands would be no better, they didn’t even pretend to care what colour you were wearing. Arya shivered, and pretended it was just from the cold.

The lizard that had scurried past her was returning, or maybe it was a different one. Arya watched its little feet spread out across the sand, its tongue darting out to taste the air. It inched closer to her boot, evidently deciding she was no threat. _At least I’ve got one friend,_ she thought wryly. Arya’s world was a wasteland, and a lonely one.

It had been a year since her father died and Joffrey had seized control of the desolate landscape and the only water supply for miles. Perhaps longer, it was hard to keep track of time when nothing was fixed anymore.

She had started by running away. A friend of her fathers had smuggled her out of the ruined city with a group of boys destined for a fighting force in the North. He was supposed to deliver her back home, but then Yoren had gotten himself killed and the group of boys looked at Arya in a way that made her skin crawl so she ran. Ran from tent village to tent village, not sure what she was looking for or how to get it.

She was being sheltered by a group of women in what had once been the Riverlands, though no rivers flowed there anymore, when news reached her of her Mother’s death. Slaughtered, along with her brothers. And then there was no more reason to go North and her only remaining family tie lay in the place she had spent months trying to escape.

Sansa was still in Joffrey’s clutches, and Arya’s stomach felt fluttery and painful when she thought about leaving her there. Leaving her there again.

She had started by running away, and now she was running back.

Arya stilled. A murmur was sounding in the distance, a whisper that grew to the unmistakable purr of an engine. Her heart pounded and she reached for the gun she kept at her belt; there was no where she could hide and no chance in hell she could outrun a driver on foot. If they saw her, she would have to fight her way out. She had two bullets left.

As the purr got louder it was accompanied by the yellow beams of headlights. Arya squinted to make out the shapes behind the glare; three bikes, two in pursuit of the first. The engine purr become a roar as they approached at speed but Arya could barely hear it over the blood that was pounding in her ears.

Her body was screaming at her to run but her mind was telling her to stay put, crouched in the dirt. If she ran they would catch her, there was no doubt about that. If she stayed where she was, maybe, just maybe, they would drive on by. Maybe they wouldn’t look to the shadowed heap in the vast sandy expanse when there was so much space to see ahead of them.

_Drive past,_ she urged in her head, the gunmetal seeping cold into her palm as she clutched it. _Drive past and don’t see me._

The first driver revved his engine hard and he surged forward but his pursuers had better vehicles than their prey; sleeker, faster and they were gaining. Arya swallowed a lump in her throat and tried to quiet her panicked breath and soothe the churning in her stomach.

_They’re after him, they won’t care about me._   She gnawed on her lip. _But if they kill him, they won’t want any witnesses._

The rider kept whipping his head around as if to check he was still being followed. He was a big man and he had a heavy metal helmet wrought with two great horns that could be seen even from a distance; a bull’s head. Suddenly he veered off course, dust kicking up beneath his wheels, engine screaming as he curved into a path that would take him closer to Arya.

She was on her feet without thinking, the gun held out from her body, clasped in two hands. Her arms were heavy with tension and her chest hurt with the beating of her panicked heart.

The Bull turned again and headlights blinded her. She screamed and the gun jumped in her fists as she shot out blindly.

A man cursed over the bang and skid as a bike span out of control beneath him, its front wheel hissing out air.

Arya could barely see through the spots of light on her vision. The Bull crashed into the sand beneath his bike and his pursuers skidded to a halt, their brakes squealing as they dismounted with surprising grace. The first man’s headlight was still shining, illuminating her in a yellow glow.

They turned to look at her and the gun in her hand; helmets obscured their faces but she could still feel the burn from their eyes.  Red helmets, adorned with golden lions. Their leathers were red too and both had long knives secured at their waists with thick golden belts. One of them was holding a pistol.

The shorter Lannister guard removed his helmet and tossed it by his feet. He had eyes that were too close together and a mean smile that showed his teeth.

“What are you playing at, boy?” He rested his hand on the hilt of his knife. “Put that down and we’ll have a chat, there’s a good lad,”

He nodded at Arya’s hands where the gun was still held out from her chest. Her arms were trembling. The Lannister was only a few paces away, but he seemed to sense that she would not shoot. Maybe he could sense her fear, or maybe he was just stupid brave. Bravely stupid.

The other guard was standing over the Bull, a heavy boot on his ruined bike so that he couldn’t free his leg from under the metal. He was training the pistol at his chest.

Arya’s eyes flickered between the three men. Sweat was beading on her forehead, sticking her fringe to her skin. Her breath made her scarf move against her lips and she was trembling so much that the gun was shaking in her grip. The Lannister noticed.

“Don’t’ be stupid now, boy.” He warned as his long fingers groped the knife handle. Arya tore at the skin of her lips and tasted blood.

On the ground the Bull was twitching. His guard clicked the safety on his pistol and aimed it.

“I said; put the fucking gun down before I make you regret it,” He growled and his knife left its sheath with a rasp.

Arya lowered her arms and pulled the trigger and lots of things seemed to happen at once.

The tall Lannister howled in pain and fell to his knees, clutching his stomach; the Bull shoved the motorbike from his leg with a frightening strength and snatched up the dropped pistol; the short Lannister swore, and Arya fell over, his weight knocking the wind out of her.

His breath stank of something foul and his teeth were big and yellow and too close to her face. He was shouting something at her. Or at least she thought he was. His lips were moving and flecks of spit were landing on her skin but Arya couldn’t hear him.

Her heart beat was too loud in her ears, and there was a horrible wheezing scream that might have been coming from her. _Though how could it have been?_ All the air was being squeezed from her chest under the man’s weight.

“Shut up! Shut _up,_ crazy bitch,” His head started spinning around in big dizzying circles when pain bloomed across her cheek. The scarf across her mouth was wet and sticking to her lips.

_This is it_. Arya felt a laugh bubble up inside of her but she couldn’t find the breath to release it. _This is how I die. I hope that stupid Bull was worth it._

Another shot rang out and above her, the Lannister’s face was yanked away and replaced by stars. _Pretty_. She thought.

It took her a moment to realise what that meant and her feeble hands reached up to yank the wet fabric away from her mouth so she could gulp down cold air. It tasted divine.

She allowed herself a few more gulps before she wriggled onto her stomach and away from the body beside her. Her fingers scraped at cold sand, searching for a gun that she knew had no more bullets in it.

The headlights were still blazing, engine running, and shadows danced around in front of the glare.  Or maybe that was just her vision blurring.

“Looking for this?”

Arya’s gun was thrust into her line of vision, held by the barrel with the handle out for her to take. Her eyes followed the hand that held it upwards into the face of a young man.

His skin was tanned and wind-burnt. He had shaggy dark hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and bright eyes that looked at her questioningly. The Bull’s Head helmet was tucked under his other arm.

Arya swallowed, snatching the gun from his outstretched hand and got to her feet as steadily as she could. Even when she was standing he towered over her.

“You’re bleeding,” The man commented. Arya touched her swollen lips and found that he was right.

“That’s gonna be one hell of a shiner too,” He nodded to her cheek which was throbbing painfully.

The man was broad as well as tall and Arya peered past his barrel torso to try and see what had become of their company. The Lannister men lay beside the ruined bikes, just as broken.

“They’re dead,” said the Bull, emotionless, “Thanks in part to you,”

“Dead?” Arya swallowed.

“Yeah you got that one in the stomach. I had to take out the other one to get him off you. Couldn’t leave him alive to talk,” He shrugged, as if it were no big deal, but there was a lump in his throat that gave him away.

“You never killed a man before?” He narrowed his eyes at her and Arya felt very exposed. She wanted to take a step back, but didn’t want to yield him any ground.

“Not a man, no,” Her words sounded strange, thick, through the blood in her mouth. She ran her tongue across her teeth, grateful they were all still there.

The Bull looked at her as if she might carry on.

“You gonna kill me?” She flexed her fingers at her side.

“You helped me,” The Bull said in way of an answer and then laughed. “Shot my bike to shit too,”

“I needed a ride,”

“Right.” He wet his lips with his tongue, “That’s a lot of red for someone who just murdered a Lannister guard,”

Arya shrugged but the word _murdered_ set her skin crawling. She remembered the squishing sound that had haunted her dreams for so long; the way Needle had sunk right into the boy’s stomach and come out again the other side. _No, don’t think about that._

She looked at the man before her, tall and heavy-set with muscle beneath riding leathers; he could easily overpower her, but he had chosen not to.

His face was stern and he had the hard jaw of a man, but his eyes glinted with youth. He might not have been much older than her. His stolen pistol was in his hand, but loosely.

She peered around him. Swallowed.

“I’m taking the best bike,”

To Arya’s surprise, the stern face split into a grin that was dazzling, dizzying. Arya didn’t like the way it made her feel. Nervous. Unsteady. Like she hadn’t just watched two men die.

“Not a chance.” He bent to begin looting the Lannister corpses. “What was your name by the way?”

Arya paused, she didn’t like telling her name to strangers. Especially not strangers who she had just seen commit murder. Who were being chased by the very family she too was running from.

“Cat,” She replied slowly. A homage to her mother, it was one of her favourite nicknames. The Bull smiled again.

“I’m Gendry,” He rummaged through the red coats of the dead men, pocketed some coins, a flask, weapons. “The rest is yours,”

“Thanks,” Arya looked on with disgust but Gendry didn’t seem to notice. 

Without looking at her, he mounted the bigger bike and revved the engine.

“See you around, Cat,” He pulled the Bull’s head helmet down over his face.

Arya watched him go for a long time, speeding into the distance. She felt more alone than ever when he was gone. Her cheek was throbbing.

The bodies of the dead men repulsed her and brought bile to her throat but survival drove her to search what Gendry had left to her.

She took a knife and slotted it into her belt; tucked a water skin inside her coat and stuffed some coins deep into her pocket. She couldn’t bring herself to peel off their clothes though, the extra layers would only make her feel unclean.

Climbing onto the remaining bike she shivered. It was too big for her, but it would do. She flicked the engine on and let the familiar hum soothe her.

_I’m coming for you Sansa,_ she promised to the night.

She had started by running away and now she was running back.


End file.
